It's 1:20 p.m. and I find myself pacing back and forth in the foyer outside the courtroom. My husband looks handsome in his dark blue, double-breasted Armani suit. He is sitting next to me wringing his sweaty hands and feeling sick to his stomach. I feel the same way. "Why is she doing this to us?" I ask him. He takes me into his arms and whispers, "I don't know. . ." The other party arrives and sits just 15 feet away in a set of benches facing us. The ladies snicker and sneer while the men send piercing death stares right through me. I can't take the stress of being back in this courthouse again and my heart is beating so fast I want to vomit so I grab my little pink Zune and plug my earphones into my ears. I crank up the volume and close my eyes tight, allowing the music to suck me into nirvana. Maybe if I close my eyes and drown out the sound of their wicked words, everything will just disappear.
Midway through the 2nd track our attorney exits the elevator. My husband prompts me to open my eyes. I carefully open my eyes to take a peek and find comfort in seeing her standing in front of me wearing a long beige trench coat.
Our attorney reassures us that we have nothing to worry about and offers to take our coats. One by one she asks me to point out everyone in the opposing party. I didn't want to but I forced myself to cough out the names of each person who accompanied the ex wife. I began with the ex. I took a deep breath and put on my poker face, desensitizing myself in the process, extended out my arm and pointed to the short, stalky lady with raven black hair who was sitting in between two other women and said, "The lady in the middle wearing the leather blazer is Annie. The one on the right side of her is her little sister Emily and the lady to her left is her mother Tessa." Tessa looked up and fanned her fingers in a rolling motion hollering out in a snobby tone, "Hellooo!", rolled her eyes and kept cackling with the other two. They were dressed in black slacks and leather blazers with button up shirts of vibrant colors and stiletto heels. The three women looked as though they were dressed to go clubbing. They giggled and cackled, looking up at us every few seconds. We pretended not to acknowledge the ladies.
I next pointed out the men who were with the ex. I first pointed to the man sitting directly across from me. His eyes were fixated on me like a rabid dog with a dark, threatening glare. I say meekly, "The man glaring at me, in the wrinkled clothing, is Annie's husband Henry. The old gentleman next to him in the tattered shirt and faded jeans is her father Reynold." I thought it was odd that the ex sat no where near her husband, nor did she acknowledge his existance. Their relationship is weird like that. . .
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